What They Awoke in the Darkness
by stargwynn
Summary: "Some things are better left asleep" Set somewhere in season 2. The boys' run-of-the-mill hunt in a small town uncovers secrets better left buried. Disclaimer: All credit to Kripke and crew!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello everyone! thanks for stopping by. This is a good old fashioned Winchester monster hunt story...with a twist. But you'll have to read to find it out...I'm simultaneously writing a draft of the sequel to Vessel of Blood, so hopefully, this will keep you guys sticking with me on that story entertained, and my muse flowing. Enjoy!**

The road seemed to go on and on. No towns came up, and it didn't look like they were going to run into any for a long time. There's Northern Wisconsin for you. The boys had been driving for hours. Dean kept saying they should wait until the next town to layover. What they didn't know is that when you get to a certain area in the north woods, the towns with motels disappeared and stretches of wilderness with occasional shacks in the forest took their place.

Word had gone down the line that there was a job needed doing up there. How the heck anyone heard of something going down in these parts who knew, but hunters were an odd, select group that had connections in the strangest places. What's more, it seemed the Winchesters traveled to Wisconsin for jobs more than any other state. Seemed the supernatural had a strange fascination with the place. As Sam looked out the window at the passing desolate scenery, he understood why. It was secluded, with small pockets of human population and ample country to hide and live in undisturbed between bouts of whatever evil it was they did.

Dean would for once have agreed with his brother. It seemed that the isolated and empty backdrop of the state held ancient things spoken of only in the dark. He mentally caught himself. Why was he thinking such things? He wasn't the melodramatic poetic type. Besides, it wasn't like Wisconsin held as much history, and therefore potential for poltergeists, as New England for instance, but he couldn't help but notice it was wilder, and untouched, even untamed.

As they drove through a particularly wooded area, they saw a light amid the night on a hill to the west of them. There was a dirt driveway with a sign only visible because of the Impala's headlights. It read:

**McCauslin Mountain Campground**

"Looks like this may be our only option, Dean."

"What? NO! I hate camping, Sam." Dean grumbled, then stifled a yawn and rubbed his eyes, trying to focus. Sam looked at him intently.

"Dean, we've been on the road forever. You can't keep driving like this." Dean turned and scowled harmlessly at his brother. His response was a knee-jerk reaction, but he knew Sam was right. He was dog-tired. Wordlessly he turned into the driveway. As they drove up the mountain (it was more of a glorified hill) they passed not only campsites but also small cabins with wisps of smoke coming from their chimneys. It was not yet winter, but Wisconsin October nights could get very chilly.

At long last the car approached what was only recognizable as the main office by a sign that called it such. Dean parked the car and stepped out into the night. He took in a breath of fresh air, but feeling its coldness, exhaled quickly. He could see his breath. He pulled his jacket tighter around his frame and started walking.

From behind came a loud snort and something wet sprayed on the back of Dean's neck. He jumped with a yelp only to be met face to face with a horse's nose.

"What the…?" Dean stared at the huge draft horse as it regarded him curiously from behind its wooden fence. He wiped the slobber from the back of his neck with a bandanna he pulled from his pocket, and turned to go walk inside the office. A plump, middle-aged woman was seated at the makeshift desk, and as the boys entered she looked up grumpily. As they requested a cabin for the night, the lady introduced herself as Grier, and stood up to gather some paperwork. She wore men's work jeans and a red plaid coat. Dean sighed. Pickings were sparse in this area in more ways than one. Sam flashed a look of disapproval at his brother, knowing his thoughts. He attempted to be polite and show friendliness. It wasn't like there were a lot of people around here, and they may need this woman's help finding information in the coming days.

"Grier. That's an unusual name…."

"It's Scottish." She snapped back, interrupting the rest of his sentence. Sam winced, nodding in awkward assent. That was supposed to come out more flattering than it did. Dean gave Sam a face that said "don't look at me."

Once they got the fire started the cabin wasn't too cold. The cots were uncomfortable and the wool blankets provided were scratchy. However, they were both tired and happy to stretch out their tall forms after the long car ride. When they awoke they had had a long but poor quality rest.

Research was not going so well. There was no internet and a local paper didn't exist, at least in print, but Dean found the local tavern full of wagging tongues. Dean would show Sam how research was done the old fashioned way.

Most of the customers at the bar were hunters up for the weekend, not locals, but they were around frequently enough to be familiar with the goings-on. It seems the place had its fair share of local lore-though it dated back a century.

A 60 some year old man interrupted the lighthearted banter from across the room and said,

"They ain't just ghost stories." At first the group of men just smiled but their faces darkened when the old man looked over from his isolated seat in the far corner of the room.

"You ever wonder why the youngest man here is 50? Sure, some youngsters like you (he pointed to Dean) show up every now and agin'. But they don't last long. They jest disappear. The locals know what happens to 'em, but they don't let on when family comes to find 'em. Yessir, there's strange things goin' on, but the only ones who find out what it is, are the ones that disappear." His pale, watery eyes fixed on Dean as he pointed a finger at him:

"And mark my words, boy, you keep askin' questions like that, you'll be the next."


	2. Chapter 2

Dean wouldn't have taken the statement to heart normally, but there was something in the old man's eyes-something he recognized. The man had seen something, something no human being should have to see. He should know the look. He saw it every morning when he looked in the mirror.

Later that day Dean met up with Sam at the _Aberdeen Diner_ for lunch. It was the only establishment other than the campground and tavern in town. He relayed the conversation at the bar, making light of the old man's warning.

"He threatened you? You think he has something to do with what's going on?"

"What? NO, Sammy. He didn't threaten me. It's like, he knows what's going to happen, but I don't think he's involved. What did you find out?"

"Well, there's no internet out here, but believe it or not, that front office has quite the book collection. Guess the books have been there for years, and they're mainly fairy tales and history books. This place was settled by Scottish immigrants and the owner of the books wanted to keep their past alive."

"Alright, and what did you find?"

"Well, once I found out that young men have been going missing, I asked Grier for more information."

"And?"

"She wasn't helpful."

"So you _didn't_ find anything?"

"Right."

"What was that about all the books, then?"

"Look Dean, I don't even know where to start reading. I need more facts; otherwise I have nothing to base the research on. No parameters."

"Ok, ok, fine. Looks like this might take a little longer than usual. We'll just have to do everything the old fashioned way."

"And what's that?"

"Talk. Mingle." Dean smiled as the waitress came over. "Now that's what I'm talking about." He purred appreciatively, watching as a girl in her mid-twenties pranced over. The girl laughed as she put the plates before the boys.

"I'm glad the food meets your expectations."

"That's not what I was referring to." Dean crooned suggestively as he met her eyes, and then read her name tag. "Cora." Her lightly freckled nose scrunched slightly as her eyes narrowed mischievously, and she flicked away a piece of honey brown hair from her forehead. She smiled a smile that lit up her whole face.

"I see. You want to order off menu." Dean grinned widely as he fiddled with his napkin. This girl was throwing him off his game, making him feel like a rookie.

Sam intervened, saving his brother from embarrassment at his lack of a comeback.

"Yeah, you know, we haven't seen many young folks 'round here. You wanna join us at the bar tonight?"

Cora looked over to Sam, eyeing him up and down. "Yeah. After all, it's not every day two handsome studs like yourselves walk into town."

"Awesome!" Dean replied. She gave him a warm smile and walked away.

"Dude…. 'Awesome?' Really?" Sam raised an eyebrow and his brother.

Dean's only response was a shoulder shrug.

_That night at the bar:_

Dean couldn't keep his eyes off Cora. At first he told himself it was because there was no other game around, but pretty soon he found himself admiring her for her own sake. Even amidst a pack of beauties he couldn't have picked a girl he would have been more attracted to. Suddenly he was glad this job was going to take longer than expected.

"Hey! Man, you with me?" Sam flashed his hand in front of Dean's face.

"Hmnnn! Yeah, yeah. What is it?" Dean sat upright in his stool and diverted his attention back to Sam.

"You know what? Never mind. You obviously have to get that girl outa your system before we can get back to work. I know its been awhile since you've had some fun."

"Why Sammy, are you suggesting I engage in extracurriculars during working hours?" Dean smirked. Sam shook his head at the sarcasm.

"You're no good to me like this, Dean. Have at it."

"Don't have to tell me twice." Dean stood up with bravado, smoothed his hair and sauntered over through the cigarette smoke to Cora. She was seated at the other end of the bar counter ordering a drink from the barkeep. Dean sidled into the stool next to her.

"Hey."

"Hey." She responded. "Thought I lost your interest at the diner." She raised an eyebrow. Dean donned an expression of disbelief.

"Oh, you fell for that? That was me playing coy." He covered.

"Ah, I see." She said knowingly, but smiled encouragingly. Dean took in her receptive demeanor and ran with it.

"So, what are we drinkin' tonight?"

"Homo Morte. It's a local shot made by the bartender here. Want one?" She held out the shot glass, her hand brushing against his fleetingly. Dean's senses tingled. He found himself staring into her hazel eyes. Their color seemed to change with the lighting and what she wore. Right now they were golden brown. He tore himself away, realizing how awkward he probably seemed.

"Why not?" He murmured, accepting the glass and raised the it to his lips as she did the same. He puckered his lips and closed his eyes in reaction. "Whew! What was in that?" He wasn't a pansy drinker, so he was surprised at how hard it hit him. She chuckled good-naturedly.

"Town secret."

Dean nodded. "I see." The barkeep addressed her again, and he glanced around the smoke-filled room. He could barely see through the cloud.

Sam looked over at the couple every now and then. Dean and Cora got progressively closer to each other as the night went on. Dean actually seemed to be talking to the chick, and not just hitting on her, though he was sure there was much of that going on as well. He saw Cora start coughing, drinking water to stop the fit.

"You okay?" Dean asked, concerned.

"Smoke." She heaved out between coughs. "Its getting to me."

"Here, lets get you outa here and into some fresh air." He took her by her arm and led her outside. She started improving with the fresh air.

"There. How you doing now?" Dean inquired, rubbing her arm comfortingly.

"Better." She looked up searchingly into his face and continued, "But I suppose that's not the only thing that made you take me out here." Dean may have been a lady's man, but first and foremost he was a protector and caretaker, and he wasn't going to take advantage of the girl's momentary vulnerability.

"What? No. Can I get you anything?" She smiled up at him approvingly.

"A regular white knight, huh?" Dean's lips quirked up.

"Uh, I wouldn't say that." She reached out and touched his hand.

"Thank you, Dean. I can't go back in there, so I guess I'll have to be a party pooper and call it a night. Sorry."

"Oh, sure, I understand. If there were another place in town to hang out I'd totally take you there."

"That's nice of you. What if I told you there were?"

"Then I'd say I'm game." She smiled, and the two headed out in her car.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank's ya'll who stuck with me through "Vessel of Blood" and tuned in to this one. That means a lot...I'm new to this fandom and am just testing the waters. The series I'm working on is really dark and involved, taking place around season 5...this fic reverts to the lighter days (if anything on Supernatural is light, LOL) sometime during season 2 when the boys lives was mainly about hunting monsters, not fighting destiny. I just needed the release. So here it is:**

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><p>Sam's phone vibrated in his pocket, and he flipped it open to read the text that appeared on the screen. It was from Dean. He'd gone off with Cora, but had left the keys to the Impala under the driver's mat. Sam smiled despite himself. It was about time his brother relaxed a bit. He was starting to realize that was how Dean stayed sane. The way he dealt with the crap that summed up their lives. He wondered, though, if fleeting and sporadic instances like these could possibly satisfy for long. His brother had never had anything stable or set in his life other than Sammy. What Sam didn't understand was that hunting was also a constant in his life, and in a strange sort of way, the job kept him going—doing the greater good and all that, though Dean never would have put it in such high falutin' words.<p>

Sam's thoughts were interrupted by a gruff voice. It was the old man Dean had pointed out as the one who had bestowed the warning.

"You need to leave. Now!" The old man eyes darted furtively around the room. "Before its too late."

"Woa, slow down. What's wrong?"

"I can't stop them, you have to go."

"Stop who? What's going on?"

"I tried to warn your brother, now it is too late." Sam was all attention now. No more time for frantic old men and cryptic warnings. He grabbed the old man's arm and hurried out of the bar. Once outside he said,

"What the hell is going on? What about my brother?"

"I can't tell you. You have to go!" Forgetting the man's age, he gripped him roughly and shoved him into the Impala, got in, and started driving.

"Okay, we're out of earshot. Now tell me what the heck is going on in this town."

The old man was crying in the passenger seat. "Its no good, no good. Now they've seen me with you…"

"Well, then, you might as well talk." When it came to his brother being in possible danger, his normal politeness vanished, replaced with dire necessity.

Out of nowhere a familiar figure emerged, and walked onto the narrow road. Sam slammed on the brakes, tires squealing against the pavement. The pedestrian looked up, made aware of the car's approach by the sound and smell of rubber against asphalt. Sam saw the person's face as he looked up dully at his approaching doom. Dean. For a split second the brother's eyes met before Sam swerved to avoid committing fratricide. Sam closed his eyes in dread, as the car careened off the road. Then he heard the awful sound: A thump against the side of the car.

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><p>Dean's world phased in and phased out. He saw her face, golden brown curls encircling her delicate features, her eyes pools of beauty he could loose himself in forever. Reacing out, he wrapped a lock of her hair on his finger, bringing it to his face, taking in its fragrance. It was unlike anything he's smelt before; it wasn't overpoweringly flowery, but more earthy and herb-like.<p>

They had parked the car above a ravine-the landscape of trees illuminated by the bright light of the half moon. Cora watched Dean caress her hair, then touched her hand to his. Dean looked up at her again, her touch waking him from his mesmeration. He held her head at the nape of her neck and pulled her firmly but ardently into a kiss.

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><p>Dean moaned, pursing his lips. Then someone's hand was on his shoulder shaking him gently.<p>

"Dean! Jeez, man..." His features were crushed together in worry as he pulled out his phone. He dialed, the phone beeping out three digits. Sam calmly made the phone call, but as he snapped the phone shut, his hands trembled slightly.

Kneeling on the cold black top at his fallen brother's side, Sam's shaking hands looked for a place to touch Dean, afraid to move him. Dean groaned a second time, and his head flopped over to the other side as he moaned softly,

"Cora."


	4. Chapter 4

"C'mon, man. You gotta be okay." Dean's eyes opened to slits, and Sam was pretty sure that when their eyes met, recognition flashed in them momentarily before Dean fell unconscious again. That second meant the world to Sam, but in an instant it had passed and the old man found his voice,

"Dean will never make it to the hospital."

Sam's eyes never left Dean, but he responded hotly, "He'll be fine!" Sam wished he could hear that reassurance come from his brother, even if it was bull most of the time.

"No, I mean they'll have intercepted the call. They won't let him get there. "

Sam looked at the old man, then. "What do you mean?"

"Did you not see the way he walked onto the road, dazed? He has seen them. Our lives are worthless, now."

"What are we supposed to do, then?"

"I know of a place we can hold up, but it's only a matter of time before they find us."

Sam hesitated. His every instinct screamed to take Dean in. I mean, he'd just hit him with the freakin' car, for Pete's sake! But if this old coot was correct, and at least a little less crazy than he sounded, he would be putting Dean in further danger by taking him to the hospital.

"We have to hurry! They'll be here any minute!"

Just then a woman's scream rung out from the woods, and Cora came crashing out of the trees, her pale green shirt ripped to tatters. She ran onto the road, and Sam had to grab her by her arms to stop her careen down the road, and he had to shake her into lucidity as her eyes darted franticly and sporadically. Once her breathing had evened out a little she staggered out,

"There's something in the woods! There's something out there…!"

"_What's_ out there? What happened?"

Cora threw up her hands, panting, and her chest heaved with more than exertion as she shrilled in terror, "_Things!"_

The old man's eyes widened, the girl's terror contagious, "I told you! We have to go! NOW!" He then started running for the car, but Sam stopped him saying,

"You have to help me with Dean." Sam carefully held onto Dean by linking his arms under his armpits, while the shaky old man grabbed Dean's legs above the knees.

"**Cora**! Get the car door!" Sam shouted at the girl, who was steadily going into shock, looking at Dean's broken form with unseeing, wide eyes. Sam's bellow shook her to her senses and she jerkily walked over to the Impala and opened the door and got into the back seat. They laid Dean flat on his back with his head in Cora's lap. Sam got into the driver's seat, and addressed the quaking old man in the passenger seat,

"Where?"

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><p>The drive wasn't long, but it was rough. They followed the main drag a little ways, and then turned off onto a tiny dirt road. It wound up a steep hill, rocks littering the path and jolting the car. Dean awoke and yelled out in pain and grasped his side at the sudden jerk. Cora stroked his face, and cooed softly in his ear, attempting to comfort him. It seemed to help, because as they drove on, Dean's outbursts grew less and less. Finally they came to a small shack. It was barely visible amongst the trees.<p>

Inside there was nothing but the floor to lay Dean on, so Sam gathered their coats and packs to act as padding, pillows and blankets.

While Sam attempted to gauge Dean's injuries in the dark, the old man introduced himself to Cora as Angus, or rather the preferred "Gus" McPherson. Sam overheard Gus _flirting_ with the girl.

"Hey! Gus! I need a light. Grab the flashlight out of that duffel." Sam imagined he heard Dean's voice in his head say something about Gus being old enough to be Cora's grandfather. But Dean didn't speak—because Sam had hit him with the car! Sam shook himself. Keep it together, Winchester.

Gus had come from behind and held up the flashlight so the beam fell directly on Dean.

"You okay, kid?" Gus asked, looking at Sam's shell shocked expression.

Sam swallowed, collecting himself. "Me? Uh, yeah. Sure."

"Uhhh…" Dean groaned, moving his arm to cover his eyes against the invading light.

"Hey!" Sam brightened. "How you doing?"

"Just peachy."

Sam would have chuckled, but under the circumstances he couldn't make light of Dean's situation seeing as he had been the one to cause it.

"Where does it hurt?"

Dean looked up at his brother with squinting eyes, the look imparting, _where do you think?_

"Where doesn't it?" Dean supplied unhelpfully.

"C'mon, Dean. Help me out here. These aren't exactly prime care facilities." He was trying to keep Dean alert and focused, but no response was forthcoming, and Dean's eyes fluttered closed and his body stilled.


	5. Chapter 5

_"C'mon, Dean. Help me out here. These aren't exactly prime care facilities." He was trying to keep Dean alert and focused, but no response was forthcoming, and Dean's eyes fluttered closed and his body stilled._

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><p>Sam grabbed the flashlight and pried open his brother's eyelids, shining the beam to view the pupil response. Concussion, for sure.<p>

Dean regained consciousness a few minutes later, much to Sam's relief. Further examination revealed at least two busted ribs, as well as serious bruising along Dean's torso.

"You're one lucky kid," Gus murmured. "Could have been much worse if we'd hit you full on."

"Well, it's all thanks to Sammy's mad driving skills," Dean said, sarcasm positivley dripping off his slurred words.

"Hey!" Sammy reprimanded. He was working hard enough to fight off the guilt without his brother heaping another load on him. "What were you doing jaywalking in the middle of nowhere, anyway?"

He recalled seeing Dean's dazed eyes and almost drunken behavior on the road, and tried to mask his concern with frustration.

"I…something in woods…don't…" Dean wiped a hand across his eyes wearily, straining to remember.

"It's okay, Dean. It's understandable after…you know." Sam stopped himself from saying, _after I hit you with the friggin' car._

_No, it wasn't okay,_ Dean thought. He had to know what was going on at all times. Dad had drilled it in to him all his life. "Know your surroundings. Assess the situation." The only problem was Dean's head felt like it was going to implode, and when he tried to focus and remember he only caught distorted flashes, but one image stuck out amidst all others,

"Cora!" Dean shot up from the floor and quickly crumpled in pain as Sam helped him lower back to the ground.

"She's okay, Dean. She's right…" Sam looked behind him expecting to see the girl, but found an empty room instead.

"Cora? Gus? They were right here." Sam stood up, confusion sketched across his face.

"Sam?" Dean asked weakly, his eyelids drooping.

"They must've gone out to get some fire wood," Sam reasoned.

"But the woods…not safe…" Dean mumbled. His eyes widened and earnestness made its first appearance on Dean's features, "You hafta find her, Sammy."

Sam raised his eyebrows at Dean's fervor, "She must be pretty special."

"She's a real lady, there. I mean, she's…" Dean stopped, turning a little red.

"Dude, you better have a fever, otherwise you _so_ just blushed." Sam took a thoughtful pause as he contemplated his brother. "You must really like this girl." Dean threw his protective gear on and muttered under his breath,

"Just making sure everyone's safe."

"Yeah, sure." Sam said sarcastically.

"What? Sam, I'll be fine in here. Go help the civvies."

Sam looked from his brother to the open door doubtfully. He didn't like the idea of leaving his wounded brother alone, but the two idiots had wandered off somewhere with both man and monsters after them.

"Fine. Take this." Sam handed his brother a shotgun and a silver blade. "Anything comes through that door, you shoot." Dean's eyes fluttered closed. Sam slapped him lightly on the cheek.

"Wuh? Yeah, I know."

"Unless of course it's me," Sam added. Dean nodded, but quickly regretted the action as his head swam.

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><p>Sam trampled through the woods and thick undergrowth, calling Cora and Gus' names softly as he went. He didn't know what was out there, but he had every conceivable weapon he could carry. Suddenly he saw a strange track made in the dirt. The leaves blanketing the forest floor were disturbed as if something had been dragged along its surface. Sam stumbled over something on the ground and fell, barely catching himself with his hands as he met the dirt. He looked back at what had tripped him, and cringed at the sight before him: Gus' body with bloodied gashes scored across his chest and torso. The poor man's dead face was frozen forever in an expression of horror—eyes unnaturally wide and mouth open perpetually in a gaping scream.<p>

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><p><strong>AN: Feedback most welcome! Share your thoughts and impressions whether good or bad.**


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